The Rise and Fall of a Union
by IlluminatedShadow
Summary: "Let others make war. You, fortunate Austria, marry." It was an ideal alliance. But could it not become more? Hapsburg fic. Spain/Austria
1. Chapter 1

Yeah, so this fic is what happens when I don't want to do homework and there is not nearly enough of a certain pairing to satisfy me. -sigh- I really like the idea of Spain/Austria, even more than actually. Personally, I would love to see Austria at the mercy of the Bad Touch Trio but alas! It was not meant to be. But, anyways, this is my attempt at writing new characters and a new pairing. Fail? Success? We'll just have to see.

Warnings: Slash, potentially incorrect history (Wikipedia is my friend), hints of sex, OOCness

Pairing: Spain/Austria (YES HABSBURG SLASH FTW -shot-)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

**

* * *

**Antonio is not surprised when he is told of his new alliance with Austria.

He knows Juana, his dear _infanta_, has been prepared since childhood to marry for political gains, to forge a strong alliance through marriage, for the sake of the kingdom. He watched as she grew, studied diligently, and now, draped in jewels and delicate finery, a young bride awaiting her future.

It's necessary, in light of Francis's growing power. His childhood friend, a confidante from the time they both lived in Rome's imperial shadow, grows stronger and threatens the balance of power. And Antonio cannot allow that.

Neither can Austria.

So their kingdoms wed.

It is an illustrious union, a beneficial match.

There is no love.

But there is power.

**

* * *

**Roderich glances at Spain once during the entire ceremony.

He does not feel guilty, however, because the union of the young royals is far more important. He approved of the wedding, finding the Spanish bride to be a good match for Phillip. This union signals the beginning of a new era, another shimmering epoch of Habsburg dominion.

The empire is spreading, growing in strength.

Let the others wage war. He would marry.

Marriage always guaranteed stronger bonds.

But, fleeting interest in his new 'husband', prompts him to glance over at the other nation. Spain—perhaps he ought now call the other man Antonio—watches the proceedings with interest, more concerned with the bride, though. The man is tan, no doubt from his long months at sea coupled with the residual darkening that resulted from the Moorish presence he so recently expelled. His hair, in Roderich's opinion, could use a trimming. The shaggy locks curl around the other man's ears and tumble into verdant eyes. A cheerful, vaguely dim-witted smile threatens to overtake his face, but he controls his self, allowing his lips to curve faintly upwards only.

Roderich, once completing his appraisal of the others, is unimpressed. The man looks like a fool, but he sees something sharp, something vaguely threatening, and frighteningly indefinable behind those bright eyes. It reminds him of a towering man from long ago, who came across as an utter buffoon but who commanded respect and fear with a mere glance.

Roderich, thankful for his mastery of manners and vice-like grasp of his expressions, manages to ignore the other when emerald orbs turn to him in curiosity.

**

* * *

**For a man, Austria is fairly attractive. Antonio continues to think about the other, late into the night, even after the marriage has been consummated.

Skin as white as the frothy tips of cold ocean waves. Violet eyes, bright like gems, and neat locks that remind him of chocolate. The man is neither short nor tall, but thin with delicate wrists and slender fingers more suited for a woman or artist than a conqueror.

But Austria—Roderich? — is so distant and completely unflappable. Aristocratic, politely disinterested, and coolly civil. He carries himself with extreme self-assuredness and the grace of someone comfortable in their power. Confident, even steps. Not a single strand of hair or thread out of place. Absolute immaculate and tranquil.

Antonio smiles, a sharp flash of teeth cuts through the darkness of the room.

It's like tossing a pebble into a still pool. The ripples, the signs of disruption, are entertaining.

He can't help but want to disrupt Roderich. Just a bit.

**

* * *

**Spain comes to stay with him for a while following the wedding. His monarchs requested that he not depart for the New World so soon.

Roderich is fairly certain that the other man was told to get to know him, just as he was ordered.

Though Roderich did not believe that the royals intended for their country to attempt to seduce him.

So the first time Spain comes to him, late at night where the only light comes from twinkling stars and a benevolent moon, Roderich curtly shuts the door in that smirking face.

He, truly, has no desire to become acquainted with Spain's vital regions.

He continues to spurn the other man who turns out to be quite perseverant.

But Roderich is not some weak-willed damsel easily won over by charming grins and softly whispered promises of passion.

So he continues to deny Spain carnal pleasures until the man finally returns to his ships and to a far more welcoming mistress, the ocean.

**

* * *

**Before the darker man leaves, he corners Roderich (who happened to get lost in his own home) and, with a mischievous sea-green eyes, cheerfully announces, "I won't be back for at least a year. What shall I bring back for you, my lord?"

The title carries the stench of mocking and Roderich can't help but bristle with indignation. The fact that Spain's sharp eyes catch the brief collapse of his calm demeanor annoys him further.

"There is no need." He responds, violet eyes coolly meeting jade. Truth be told, he has no need of whatever trinket Spain will steal away from the New World. He knows their marriage is simply for the sake of politics. "Do not bother."

Friendship? Hardly. Lust? No. Love? Roderich laughed at the thought.

It is marriage. Nothing more.

But Spain merely smiles mysteriously and grabs Roderich by the hand, pulling it up and presses it to his lips, eyes never leaving his. Roderich feels heat rise in his cheeks and mentally curses his pale complexion that is no doubt turning rosy.

"But I want to." Spain murmurs. "Can't a husband spoil his wife?"

Irritated with the teasing and enraged by the insult to his masculinity, Roderich tugs away his hand and pushes past his infuriating husband. Propriety be damned. He refused to stand by and allow these insults to continue.

"I will bring back enough gold to make a piano! With keys made of gems! Its splendor and beauty will only be second to you!" The curly-haired man shouted enthusiastically but Roderich paid him no mind.

The man was an idiot. Such a piano would be impossible to play.

**

* * *

**Talented. Shrewd. Disciplined. Intelligent. Beautiful.

Antonio found these appealing traits in Roderich.

Often caught unawares. Gets lost easily. Prone to waste hours playing the piano.

Antonio also found these weaknesses appealing. However, he knew Roderich, if he wasn't careful, could easily find himself taken advantage of.

And, though Roderich seemed to have no desire to delve further into their relationship, Antonio found that he wouldn't mind. He found himself thinking more about his distant husband, especially during long, cold nights.

They could form an intense emotional bond.

Or at least relieve their physical desires.

**

* * *

**Roderich would never say it aloud, but, after months of Spain trailing him like a shadow, he was starting was starting to miss the absent man.

It is not that he is lonely. No, he has his young, endearing and insufferable charges and the servants and his music.

But his days feel less bright and pass far slower without Spain bursting into his music room or sneaking up behind him with a ready, exuberant smile.

Not to say that he misses the way Spain would glance at him with heated, wanting glances. Nor does he miss the way the other country would lightly trace the curve of his shoulders or waist or neck whenever he would pass, leaving Roderich warm and embarrassed.

But, in court, he hears whispers of what happens to heretics and innocents in Spain and rumors of what's happening across the ocean, and he shivers, wondering if the madness and cruelty he sees lurking in those green eyes will be unleashed on him one day.

Roderich is glad he kept Spain away from his bed and out of his heart.

He can't be so naïve to think their marriage will last forever and he hopes, when that day comes, his heart does not weigh him down.

**

* * *

**One day Roderich enters his private chambers and finds Spain reclining on his bed. The other man is stretched out, cat-like, teetering on the edge of slumber and consciousness. He cracks open one eye and, seeing Roderich, sits up and smiles lazily at the other man.

Spain is dressed is fairly simple clothes, rumpled from travel. His skin is tinted with the kiss of an unforgiving sun and, for the briefest moment, the aristocrat can smell the vague allure of the sea-salt and open breezes.

Spain slips off the bed, elegant and confident, and makes his way over to Roderich, who simply watches his approach warily. The other man moves smoothly, like wildcat, a hunter stalking his prey (not out of necessity, but freedom). He stops just before Roderich and smiles oddly, head tilted at a slight angle.

"I hope you had a pleasant voyage." Roderich began in a polite tone.

Spain hums and replies, "I suppose it was pleasant—for an months long expedition on the sea and then surrounded by those savages." He sighed, whining. "My bed has been so cold."

Roderich chooses not to comment, so Spain continues, "Oh, but it was quite successful!"

Roderich nodded politely, "Perhaps you could go into greater detail over some tea?"

Spain's grin widens. "Perhaps. Or we could stay here and I could be even more detailed." He steps closer and Roderich can definitely smell salt and faint traces of blood and a musk that is purely Spain.

He swallowed roughly.

"I could also give you my gift." Spain whispers, hand rising to cup Roderich's face. The slightly shorter man can feel the other man's thumb brushing across his lower lip and he half wants to push the Spaniard away and scold him for violating his personal space. But he also thinks that it wouldn't be so bad to give in because, while he may be a country, he also has the needs of a man.

But, no, he cannot give in now, after evading the other for so long. Thus, Roderich places his hand against Spain's chest and starts to push the other away, but, with speed he was unprepared for, the other country's hand cups the back of Roderich's head, calloused and rough fingers treading in soft locks, and pushes him forward so that their lips meet.

Spain's free arm comes around his waist so that the violet-eyed nation is flush against his body.

A demanding tongue presses against his lips and Roderich grudgingly allows it entry, unable to help the pleasure that unfurls as it expertly explores and maps out his mouth. The kiss is passionate, burning and combative.

It leaves Roderich breathless and unsteady and he seeks support by grabbing the broad shoulders before him. He doesn't have to look up to know that Spain is wearing a pleased smile.

**

* * *

**Despite what he said, Spain did not bring back enough gold and jewels to make that extravagant and useless piano.

But, when Roderich is lying, sated, with his head resting on Spain's chest, the other nation grasps his hand and kisses each pale digit before slipping a heavy gold band on one finger. Then, with a soft kiss to his palm and the fluttering pulse point of Roderich's wrist, Spain asks, "Do you like it?"

Roderich can only nod, amused but vaguely touched by the gesture. It may not mean anything, but it is another sweet, slightly useless act that defines the green-eyed man.

Spain then rolls over so he is looming over Roderich. With a smirk, he leans down and presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss against his lips and laughs when the brunet frowns in distaste.

"Beautiful." Spain says, reverently, eyes gleaming in the weak moonlight.

Roderich, uncomfortable, looks away.

He couldn't keep the other man out of his bed.

Hopefully he could keep him out of his heart.

* * *

Please ignore any history!fail. Success? Fail? Like it? Hate it? Love it? Let me know what you all think. Thank you and good night!


	2. Chapter 2

I am incredibly fond of this story. And I'm flattered by those who fav'd or put this story on their alerts list. I'd also like to thank Liebchen-chan for the kind review. I appreciate it. Please enjoy this newest installment.

Warnings: sex, language, OOC-ness, potential history fail, slash, violence, angst

Pairing: Spain/Austria (main), hinted Hungary/Austria

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Roderich watched, vaguely amused as Spain huffed and cooed loudly about how adorable the two Italian brothers were. Lovino, used to the Spaniard's obsessive fawning, merely ignored the curly-haired man and instead continued to take tiny bites out of the tomato he held possessively. Feliciano, cuddled against his brothers, eyes closed with a oblivious smile on his face also seemed unaware of the Spain shouting "So cute~"

"Try to contain yourself, Spain." Roderich scolded, sighed heavily when the man started squealing about the tiny heart that the two brothers' hair curls made. "Your behavior is disgraceful."

"I apologize, my lord." Spain said, lips still twitching into a cheerful grin despite his attempt to look repentant. "I did not mean to bring embarrassment to the honorable Habsburgs."

Roderich gave him a warning glare that went unnoticed. He was acutely aware that the other man was teasing him and, as harmless at it was, he didn't enjoy it.

Spain leaned closer to him, placing a warm hand atop his own, thumb laying on the heavy gold band on the prim nation's hand. "Would you prefer I turn my attentions to you?"

A scarlet flush rose on Roderich's cheeks and he pulled his hand from under Spain's.

"I'd rather you not." Roderich replied curtly, pointedly not looking at his spouse. Ever since that night, all he could see in the other's face was lust and passion and possession. He wasn't sure what was going on in the green-eyed man's head, but it was most likely was not the simple thoughts one would assume at first glance.

Roderich, though he welcomed Spain into his bed, his palace, he dared not allow the other to come any closer.

And not knowing exactly what Spain thought or wanted, Roderich strengthened his resolve to keep the other away.

* * *

Spain's calloused hands grip his hips, bruises blossoming on pale skin under unyielding fingers. The other man pants against the nape of his neck, hot, damp bursts of breath, even as he harshly thrusts into Roderich, pulling back the other man flush against his chest even as his hips surge forward.

Teeth latch onto his shoulder and Roderich gasps, sweat dripping into his eyes, and he tries to arch away from his bedmate. A keening cry raggedly tears out of his throat and he turns his head into the pillow, muffling the humiliating noise. He can hear Spain's throaty chuckle over the pounding of his heart and he scowls, gripping the thin bed sheets.

"I am fairly certain," Roderich bites out, trying desperately to reign in the moans that threaten to spill out. He now regrets allowing Spain to share his bed, silently damning those charming, childlike and utterly sly verdant eyes. He knows the other is smirking, he can feel the sharp curve of the other's lips against his shoulder where he had bitten down. "I forbid you from leaving any marks that might be visible."

Those damnable lips press softly against the abused skin in silent apology. Then Spain murmurs, "Unless you plan to parade around the palace as nude as a newborn, then I assure you they will not be visible." He chuckles huskily. "And, as much as the thought of you walking around bare arouses me," He punctuated the statement with a deep, draw-out thrust and Roderich shuddered, "I want to be the only one who has that privilege." One hand deftly slipped down and seized Roderich's arousal. "Not little Feliciano. Not the Holy Roman Empire. Not even Hungary." He whispered, slowly pumping the other man's member and speeding up his thrusts. "Only me." He kissed Roderich's bare shoulder and twisted his hand roughly, speeding up his thrusts as Roderich slipped into German, moaning incomprehensibly in the guttural tongue.

With a sharp snap of his hips, Spain felt his body tauten as his release shot through him. Judging by the Roderich's melodious wail and the warmth that spilled over his fingers, the violet-eyed man had found his as well. Panting heavily, the Austrian collapsed, boneless, against Spain's chest. The southern nation kissed the back of Roderich's head, smiling affectionately at the sleepy mumble he received in response.

Tugging the sheets over their sweaty, sated bodies, Spain loops his arms around his husband and allowed himself to drift off into the embrace of sleep.

* * *

"Tell me, my lord. How do you get lost in your own home?" Antonio asked, innocently, secretly enjoying the embarrassed and disgruntled expression on Roderich's face.

"It is quite large." He said defensively.

"Yes, but you've lived here for how long?"

"Be quiet."

"Do I not even get a 'thank you' for finding you?"

"There was no need." Roderich huffed, cheeks darkening further. Antonio resisted the urge to coo and kiss his rosy cheeks.

For thirty seconds.

"How dare you!" Roderich hissed, struggling against his idiot husband who seemed intent on squeezing the life out of him. "Unhand me!"

Antonio merely squeezed harder and began to pepper kisses on the captive man's cheeks, forehead, and lips. "You are too cute my lord!"

Roderich just grumbled and, after glancing around to make sure no one was watching, ceased his struggling and reluctantly allowed the affection.

* * *

"Damn that lying, thieving swine and that Protestant bitch who dares to wear that crown." Antonio swore, viciously knocking the delicate dishes from the table with a wide sweep of his arm. "An entire nation of heretics! Criminals! Liars! Children of whores!" He snarled, eyes sharp as the thin edge of his battleaxe. With an animalistic cry, the tanned man upended the heavy wooden table with a swift kick.

Roderich watched quietly from where he stood in front of the heavy doors.

"My armada! My beautiful, powerful armada! Destroyed by that demon and his slut!"

Roderich flinched minutely as a chair crashed into the wall. He'd have to have this entire room remodeled, hoping it survived the fury of the other nation.

"Damn them! Damn them to hell! This crime will not go unpunished!"

The beast, stinging with wounded pride, and with eyes as hard as jade and burning with violence and madness terrified Roderich. This beast that had taken over Spain, the normally cheerful nation who freely handed out "Cheer up" charms and sweet kisses. This beast that had slumbered for so long behind a smiling mask.

Roderich watched as the beast rampaged, as Spain slipped further into insanity, spurred by the loss of his armada and loyal men.

After standing tall and mighty for so long, after serving as lord of a powerful fleet of ships, after unleashing his power on an unsuspecting peoples an ocean over, Spain was being brought to his knees by a short man with untamed eyebrows, a criminal dressed in a lord's finery with a cruel, leonine smirk.

The shattering of a mirror was the last thing Roderich heard as he turned and slowly slipped out of the room.

He couldn't bear to watch anymore.

* * *

After the sounds of destruction ceased late that night, Roderich slipped back into the room with a bowl of hot water and strips of cloth. Wordlessly, he made his way to Spain who sat in the center of the war-torn room, broken furniture and glass and other sorts of debris scattered around him. The tanned man was still, staring blankly at the wall in front of him, hands clenched in loose fists on his knees. His knuckles had dried blood on them and his hands looked bruised and swollen.

Roderich gracefully slid to his knees beside the broken man and gently reached for one broken hand.

"You will ruin your clothing." Spain muttered, not looking at him.

"It is only clothing." Roderich said soothingly. "I will mend it."

"No." Spain said sharply, eyes glinting strangely. "I will tell the tailor to make you a suit finer than any you've ever owned."

Roderich didn't argue, knowing full well Antonio needed to distract himself. Instead he said, "I always thought black was quite dignified."

"You look far better in dark blue." Antonio muttered, adding, "I like you in blue."

Roderich let his lips twitch upwards. "If that is what my husband desires."

Spain smiled then, face brightening for a moment. "And a new silk cravat."

Roderich just nodded, letting the other man ramble about gifts of clothing and treasure, and set about cleaning the darker man's injuries with delicate, deft fingers.

* * *

Time went by and Roderich began to see less and less of the other man. It didn't bother him, despite what Elizabeta seemed to believe and he often brushed off her attempts to comfort him.

"Are you sure you're alright, sir?" The brunette asked sweetly, eyes soft and concerned. Roderich merely nodded, sitting quietly at his beloved piano, only slightly still surprised by the gentle side she acquired since the days of her childhood were she cheerfully beat him up.

The maid looked unconvinced and fidgeted slightly, hands tightly fisted in her apron. Her cheeks had a rosy tint to them and Roderich asked, politely, "Are you feeling well? You look flushed."

"I-I'm fine!" She said hurriedly, backing away and whirling on her heel. Without looking back she added, "You just haven't smiled since he left." And then, long hair fluttering behind her, the woman slipped away, hoping she hadn't angered him.

Roderich just blinked, watching her leave.

…He really hadn't smiled since Antonio left?

With a small frown, he resumed his playing.

* * *

"Roderich." Said man turned sharply, hands tugging his unbuttoned shirt over his chest. Spain had quietly slipped into his chambers and was watching him, leaning against the door. The man looked weaker, thinner. Dark brown curls hung limply around his face and even his eyes looked dull.

"Spain." The bespectacled man said softly, studying his spouse.

The other smiled sadly, "We've been married for so long. Yet you haven't once called me Antonio."

Roderich said nothing, hands not loosening their tight grip on his clothing. He watched the other warily.

He knew Spain had gone through much. Losing the Netherlands and dealing with a revolt from his brother, Portugal, all while fending off France and being slowly torn apart from the inside. His economy was suffering.

Spain had fallen so far.

"Baltasar Carlos has passed on. Felipe is heartbroken. They whisper Carlos is not fit to rule." The Spaniard said solemnly.

Roderich nodded, already aware of the news even before Spain arrived. Wide, pleading eyes locked onto his and Roderich felt his self soften. With a soft sigh, the violet-eyed man held out his arms and, wordlessly, Spain entered his embrace. Though the man was taller, Roderich, on his tiptoes, murmured comfortingly as Spain rested his forehead on his shoulder, soft curls brushing the shorter man's cheeks.

"I'm so sorry." Spain whispered and Roderich felt him shudder. Stroking his back, Roderich tried to soothe the tremors that were now wracking Spain's defeated body. Hands, worn from years of wielding an axe, a sword, of tying knots and working on ships, tightened their grip but Roderich held back a wince.

This might be the last time he could hold Spain.

And, as much as he would've like to say he expected it and was prepared, he couldn't help the way his stomach clenched painfully and the sharp sting in his eyes.

* * *

I hope this chapter was to people's liking. I took some liberties with the time periods (and probably history). Some quick notes:

1. According to wikipedia, a lot of crap happened to Habsburg Spain in later years. Felipe refers to Philip IV who's heir died young, leaving Carlos or Charles II to become king later. Charles II of Spain suffered from the consequences of inbreeding and was manipulated by others because he was ineffectual as a ruler. France (under Lous XIV) went to war with Spain and I think kinda took it and became powerful. Basically, this last section was Spain and Austria at the end of their union.

Next chapter you can look forward to the arrival of France and Prussia and more angstyness.

Thank you for reading. While I do not need reviews to live, I really do appreciate them because they give me an idea of how people feel about the direction I'm taking and my writing. So, drop a review or criticism. If not, expect the next chapter sometime soon (hopefully~)!


	3. Chapter 3

Oh my goodness, I am so sorry for the enormous delay. I hit major writer's block with this one. But its done and extra long for your enjoyment. Alas, we've reached the end. I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I have. Thank you for all the kind reviews and I hope everyone following this story enjoys this final installment.

Warnings: previous warnings apply, attempted historical accuracy

Pairing: Spain/Austria, hinted France/Spain, hinted Prussia/Austria

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership

* * *

When Antonio wakes up, hours later, Roderich is missing but the spot where he once lay is still warm. The curly-haired man sits up slowly and groggily wonders where exactly the other man is, before gives up and flops back down on the soft mattress.

Running a rough hand through his dark, tangled hair, Antonio just lays there, staring up at the canopy. Dark, unwelcome thoughts slip into his mind and he can't help but feel resigned and tired and devoid of the energy he was so famous for.

A leader will be found. There is one in France.

Francis.

The blond had become pushy lately, visiting more often and stirring up conflicts with a beautifully sly smile and deceptively sweet eyes. Antonio can feel that lusty gaze, recognizes those hands gliding across his shoulders in faux camaraderie. He pretends to ignore the looks, gives no indication of finding the blond's amorous touch troubling.

He's been preparing himself for a while now, realizing that one day he and Francis would be together.

Or at least, Francis would have him.

He exhaled loudly, throwing a tanned arm over his face.

He always thought of Roderich, of his stoic demeanor and distant eyes so different from Francis's affection and warmth. But thinking of the aristocrat comforted him. Remembering the silken skin under his fingertips, the rosy hue that blossomed on pale cheeks, the way Roderich would smile softly when he thought Antonio wasn't watching.

Antonio shifted under the sheets, feeling the slow wave of arousal wash over him.

It had been too long. Their separation had been bearable, but only just so. They were still bound, but their constant contact was unnecessary. The Hapsburgs lived happily in Austria and in Spain.

But last night, he had returned, no doubt catching the other man off guard. He didn't doubt for a moment that Roderich knew everything that had happened during their separation. He had expected to see icy violet eyes and a disdainful sneer. He had expected the other to turn him away, tell him that Antonio had outlived his usefulness.

Didn't Roderich like to say it was just a marriage of convenience?

But Roderich's eyes had been gentle and he held Antonio without complaint. He had taken the Spaniard to bed, wrapped the sheets around their bodies and silently petted away the tremors and night terrors.

And Antonio knew, that despite the way Roderich tried to deny it, tried to brush it away, he held some affection for him. He must've. Why else hadn't he just turned him away last night?

Antonio, while he craved freedom and independence, wouldn't mind standing by Roderich. If only for a few more moments.

* * *

"Big Brother Spain!" Feliciano cried, running as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. His dress bounced with each step and, in a mass of frills and fabric, he collided with Antonio's legs and looked up with a big smile.

"Ah~ Feliciano! You get cuter each time I see you!" The older country cooed, leaning down to the child's level.

Feliciano just smiled wider and, opening his eyes just a bit, asked, "How is Lovino?"

Thinking of his mercurial charge and remembering the painful head butt he received just a few weeks ago, Antonio winced but said, "He's the same as ever."

The little boy looked absolutely ecstatic. "Ve! That makes me happy. Keep taking good care of him, Big Brother!"

Unable to control himself anymore, Antonio pulled the little maid into a tight hug and began complimenting the boy in rapid Spanish and nuzzling his light brown hair.

"Ve…" Feliciano frowned, starting to squirm. "I have to go finish my chores now, or else I won't get any pasta."

Reluctantly, Antonio released the little Italian and watched with a slight pout as the boy pranced off. He wished Lovino could be as amiable as his younger brother…

Mood brightened by his encounter with Feliciano, the nation of Spain stretched to his feet and continued his search of Roderich. The man hadn't returned by the time Antonio woke up and it was nearing late afternoon.

It was amazing that Roderich had allowed him to sleep in as long as he did.

Suddenly, a loud explosion tugged the green-eyed man out of his musing and he stared around in shock. "Was that a cannon?" he murmured, eyes wide.

Another explosion prompted him to follow the sounds, making him become increasingly nervous. Surprise war?

Now he wished he brought his axe…

Finally reaching the source of the noise, he hesitantly pushed open the door and entered into the kitchen.

Wide emerald eyes took in the room. Flour and eggshells decorated much of the room along with what looked like…

"Chocolate?" Antonio said, looking closely at the dark liquid dripping off the table.

A polite cough drew him away from the chocolate and he turned to see his normally impeccable spouse glaring at him, glasses askew, hair falling out of place, and flour splattered across his clothing.

So he was the one who baked those delicious cakes. And he thought the other disliked cocoa when he first tried it.

Antonio stared for a moment before he began to laugh, leaning against the table and clutching his stomach. The sight of his husband prompted the raucous laughter to tumble out.

"D-don't laugh!" Roderich snapped, an angry flush rising up under the flour. He had been so careful to avoid being caught while in the kitchen (since baking always turned out to be a messy affair for reasons beyond his comprehension), especially when he was baking a torte for the Spaniard. The thought of Spain having more reason to view him as feminine made him ill with humiliation.

Antonio calmed down briefly, verdant eyes flickering shut. When he opened them however, he couldn't help but slip back into hysterics and was too weak to resist when Roderich literally kicked him out of the kitchen and slammed the heavy doors in his face.

"Aww, don't be like that." Antonio cooed, pressing his hand against the door. He snickered, more than certain Roderich was sulking and continuing with his baking, mouth set in a severe pout. "I think it's adorable."

When there was no response, Antonio frowned and tapped on the door. "Come now, Roderich, I leave at dawn. Surely you want to spend the evening with me."

The door remained shut.

"Roderich." He purred, face pressed against the door. "_Cariño. Mi cielo. Mi bello._" He knew the other couldn't stand the thought of being laughed at, as untouchable as he behaved, and was now nursing his bruised pride. "_Mi amor._"

Suddenly the door tugged open, nearly causing Antonio to tumble forward but the curly-haired man managed to catch himself. Sheepish green eyes regarding a stern faced Roderich as Antonio ducked his head and looked like a contrite child.

"I'm sorry." He said softly as Roderich glared at him evenly.

"It was supposed to be a surprise." The Germanic nation sniffed haughtily.

"I thought we were at war." Antonio said contritely. "I heard an explosion."

"Yes, well…" Roderich blushed and looked away. "…that happens sometimes…when I bake…"

Antonio chuckled. Roderich pushed him back roughly, anger returning as he reached to shut the door again. The Spaniard grabbed him before he could do so and pulled the resisting man into an embrace.

"Don't be so embarrassed." Antonio chided lightly, nose twitching when Mariazell brushed against it.

"Unhand me." Roderich muttered, voice lacking any real heat.

The two stood there like that for a few moments longer in silence, until Antonio whispered, "I want to stay like this. If you let me…"

Roderich didn't respond, even though he knew Antonio wanted to hear some agreement from him, some validation that this bond was valuable.

But he couldn't bring himself to comfort the other, no matter how much his chest hurt and his heart threatened to rebel, those sweetly whispered words still ringing in the Austrian nation's ears.

"_Liebling."_ Roderich whispered, turning his head to press his lips to Antonio's cheek in a fleeting kiss. Then he pulled away, a soft, sad smile in place as he turned around and disappeared back into the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Antonio stared for a moment at the door before his lips curved into a bitter smile.

He spun sharply on his heel and yelled at the first servant he found, ordering his horse to be prepared immediately.

Antonio left that night.

Roderich refused to leave the kitchen until his monarch came personally to plead with the dark-haired man.

* * *

"I want to fight that frog." England said immediately after sitting down. The sandy-haired man looked somewhat out of place sitting on the ornate chair and dressed in finery across from Roderich. Short hair untidy and face ruddy and abnormally bright eyes glaring out from under untrimmed eyebrows, the short island nation looked ill-tempered and arrogant.

Roderich glanced at the fellow country evenly, taking a calm sip of his tea. He wasn't really impressed by England all that much, actually. The nation lived on the fringe of Europe, away from the mainland and was rather strange because of it. He thrived on his rivalry with France and seemed utterly awkward when dealing with anything else.

Perhaps it was petty, inviting England over and forging an alliance with him now considering whom he was at war with. But it was war. And he needed the powerful navy England had at his disposal.

(The image of Antonio shattered and raging against the pain arose in his mind and he was quick to try and force it away.)

His ally regarded him expectantly, eyes briefly flicking over him in interest. Roderich, fairly certain that England (as untrained he was in continent politics) wanted a more… concrete…relationship during this war, thanked heaven that he was well-trained in masking his emotions. Otherwise the other's keen gaze would've already noticed his disdain.

"Its not really your place to make such demands, but…" The violet-eyed man said easily, catching the way England bristled at his dismissal. "…frankly, I could care less. Kill him, even, if you'd like." He had already met with Russia and the newly formed Dutch Republic; he didn't feel like putting too much effort in playing games with the other.

England looked entirely too pleased with the thought.

"My wish is to regain Silesia." Roderich added, rage curling in his stomach at the thought of that boorish Prussia laying claim to his vital regions.

"Really." England said flatly, studying him with critical eyes again. An unimpressed look dashed across his features and Roderich was tempted to throw his tea at the shorter man. Just because he hadn't fought for some time, did not mean he had become soft.

Never mind that his hands weren't as calloused as they once were and that he had been neglecting his physical activities and his swordsmanship. As soon as he marched onto the battlefield, his military prowess would be once again seen as he put that red-eyed demon back in his place.

"So I can rest easy knowing that you are capable of fighting your own battles?" England asked, eyes sharp and resting on Roderich's hands. The Austrian continued to wear the gold band Antonio gifted him with so long ago (it having become a part of him he never considered removing). "You will not be distracted?"

This time Roderich allowed his displeasure to be known. "And just what exactly are you insinuating?" He asked coldly, eyes frigid behind his spectacles.

"I am not—"

"If you think I hold any remaining attachment to him, then you are mistaken." He continued calmly, eyes pinning the other to his seat. Pleasure cruelly rose in his chest when he saw the other visibly cow away. Then with an imperious glare, he sat up a little straighter and reminding the relatively new upstart of his longtime imperial glory. "It was just a political bond." He loved me. "He has chosen his side." I pushed him away. "It meant nothing." His heart throbbed painfully. "You need not worry."

And the marriage wasn't even a particularly happy one Roderich would argue with Elizabeta. They didn't always see each other. He never visited Spain. They argued over the Italies. He never called Antonio Antonio. They were intimate, but it was out of necessity and not love (no matter how sweetly Antonio touched him or how they could never not kiss during the act). It was a long marriage, one for political gain and nothing else. Antonio acted foolish and childish and he was forever cleaning up the tanned man's messes.

If they enjoyed each other's company or addressed each other fondly, it meant nothing.

It meant nothing.

The ring burned on his finger.

Roderich's chest hurt.

* * *

"What is the matter, _mon ami_?" Francis asked, idly twirling Antonio's hair around a slender finger. "I cannot even remember when you last smiled."

"What do I have to smile about?" Antonio muttered, forest green eyes dull as he ignored the way Francis wrapped his arms around him and played with his curls. He had lost so much…

"We're gonna kick that pansy's ass." Gilbert said brightly, crimson eyes gleaming as they glanced up from his maps. "That's a good reason to smile."

"For you perhaps." Francis smirked, trailing his fingers down Antonio's chest. "But Antonio here was married once to the beautiful young master, _non_?"

Gilbert just grunted, face unreadable. Francis raised a golden brow and his grin sharpened. "Oh to see lovers forced to do battle against each other." He purred, brushing his lips against the Spaniard's ear. "At least you'll be able to see him again, _chéri._"

"That's enough Francis." Antonio murmured, feeling prickles of irritation. But he couldn't exactly throw the other off. Francis was his friend…and somewhat his lord as well.

"You're not gonna chicken out, are you?" Gilbert asked, seemingly annoyed. "You two are divorced now. Get used to it."

"Want the sweet Austrian to yourself?" Francis asked innocently, blue eyes locked on Antonio to gauge his reaction.

Gilbert glared venomously at the blond man and turned back to his maps, grumbling something in quiet German under his breath.

"You're too cruel." Antonio scolded, untangling himself from his longtime friend.

"At least I did not run to your most hated enemy." Francis snapped, azure eyes sharp and jealous.

"It is war." The Spaniard countered, feeling renewed hurt at the reminder that Roderich had aligned himself with England.

"He turned you away and let Arthur fuck him on your marriage bed. I would never hurt you like that." Francis whispered fiercely. When Antonio turned his head away, refusing to listen, Francis sighed, somewhat hurt. "You'd be far better off putting Austria out of your mind. And when you do, I'll be right here."

Antonio said nothing, choosing instead to exit the tent and find some soldiers to spar with.

* * *

"You made this far easier than I could've imagined." Prussia crowed, a victorious smirk on his face. "Hey, painter! Get over here and paint me standing over this loser! And be sure to capture the sheer anguish and pain from being defeated and utterly humiliated by the awesome me!"

Roderich groaned lightly, face resting against the hard ground as Prussia continued to boast and strut around above him. He could taste the metallic sting of blood in his mouth and he could see his shattered spectacles a few paces away, glinting in the bright sunlight. His head was spinning and he was beginning to realize that maybe he wasn't in as great condition as he had believed.

"Hey, hey weakling." Prussia whispered loudly, squatting next to the fallen superpower. "How does it feel to lose this badly? How does it feel to get your ass handed to you by someone really awesome and sexy and brilliant and strong?"

Roderich managed a weak glare and responded, voice dripping with scorn. "I'll let you know when that happens." He coughed, grimacing when blood splattered onto the grass. "And if you were as 'awesome and sexy and brilliant and strong' as you claim, why did you need to run to France and Spain to beat me?" Roderich's lips twisted into a sneer, feeling hatred rise just looking at Prussia. "Where was your confidence then?"

The cheerfully manic grin on Prussia's face vanished, replaced by one of burgeoning fury. The silver-haired man's hand shot out and grabbed the fallen country's normally immaculate hair and tugged, dragging Roderich's upper body off the hard ground and forcing his neck to crane unnaturally to look face to face with Prussia's scowl.

"I'd be a little more careful if I were you." He hissed, voice low. "I could snap your fucking neck right now. So watch your mouth, priss."

Roderich snorted indelicately, violet eyes dismissive.

Prussia's hand tightened in his hair in warning. "Or else I'll find a much better use for that mouth of yours." A knifelike grin spread across his lips as his scarlet eyes raked over Roderich's face and locked on his mouth.

"Ohoho~ What do we have here?" Francis's voice rang out as he and Antonio approached. Francis's hand rested on his scabbard and Antonio's battleaxe was balanced firmly against his shoulder. The aristocratic blond smirked, blue eyes taking in the two other countries.

Antonio said nothing, but his green eyes glanced impassively at Roderich.

"About damn time." Prussia grumbled, standing up and dragging Roderich up to kneel next to him. "I was wondering where the hell you two disappeared."

"Just admiring the scenery." France replied cheerily. "And beheading a few Austrians."

Roderich flinched minutely, lowering his gaze in memory of his fallen citizens.

"They died begging." France added, eyes on Roderich.

Those words he refused to let slide.

"If they did beg, " Roderich bit out, violet eyes furious. "it was only out of the desire to have someone competent killing them."

France frowned, pretty lips pinching together. "He's rather mouthy for a disgraced superpower."

Prussia who had let out a bark of laughter at Roderich's words just shrugged, his grin still in place. "Was just about to fix that when you interrupted."

"We should turn him over to the Austrian forces." Spain said quietly, dark brown curls tumbling down as he turned his gaze to the horizon.

Prussia and France glared at him. Roderich couldn't bear to look at his ex-husband.

"Don't be such a spoilsport." France scolded.

"Not until I get my spoils of battle." Prussia snapped reaching to undo his pants.

"Over my dead body." Austria snarled, fight returning to his body.

"That can be arranged." Prussia hissed, tugging harshly on the other's hair.

"Would you be willing to share?" France asked slyly.

"I did all the work!"

And Roderich was secretly ecstatic that the militant nation was possessive because the last thing he wanted was any part of France near him.

"We should turn him over to the Austrian forces." Spain repeated, louder, turning to his allies with sharp eyes. His axe was no longer resting against his shoulder, but gripped tightly in his hands, and the man made a formidable image with the sun blazing behind him and an unforgiving expression on his face.

Roderich gazed at the ground, taking sight of the gold band still on his finger.

He had planned to remove it before battle but…

He forgot. Plain and simple. Honestly. He was the forgetful sort, after all.

Prussia exhaled loudly and shoved Austria back down and stomped away. "Way to ruin my fun." He scowled, storming past. "One of the few times I can get a little action after all those years of celibacy and the scorned lover comes in and throws a jealous hissy fit." The silver-haired man muttered. "I've been waiting for years for this moment, damn it Antonio."

France wordlessly brushed past him.

Sighing, knowing full well that his companions were extremely displeased with him, Antonio started to trudge after them.

However, curiosity got the better of him and against his rational and good judgment, he looked back.

Roderich had managed to stagger to his feet, doing his best to straighten his rumpled uniform with a disgruntled expression. A flash of gold caught his eye, sparking something within Antonio.

"You still wear it." He stated, stepping towards his once spouse with surprised eyes.

Roderich froze, glancing at Antonio with wide eyes before looking down at the ring. "…I…keep forgetting…to take it off." He said lamely, idly twisting the band.

Antonio couldn't hold back a small smile at the other's words. But it disappeared as easily as it came. "I thought it would be the first thing you threw out."

Roderich remained silent, still looking at the ring.

The battlefield was silent, bodies still littering the ground even as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The scent of gunpowder was faint, overpowered by the stench of blood and decomposing corpses.

Surrounded by war and face to face with Antonio, Roderich suddenly felt very weary, the day's events weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He had lost. Suddenly, a little honesty didn't seem so weak.

"I couldn't." He said quietly. "I wanted to. I tried to. But I couldn't."

Antonio studied the beaten man before him. Some part of him wanted to ignore their separation, forget their failings, and just embrace the man.

But that time had passed.

"Antonio. I—" Roderich hesitated, looked younger and lost—so unlike the cold-hearted demeanor of a young master he had assumed. He looked helplessly at Antonio.

"You never once called me that during our marriage. Not once in all those years." Antonio said accusing, resisting the voice shrieking at him to comfort Roderich just as he did before when Antonio was at his lowest.

"There is much that I did not do during that time." The Germanic nation admitted. "Much that I ought to have done."

Antonio forced himself to be stern, to harden his heart just as Roderich had done effortlessly when their divorce was finalized.

Roderich bit his lip and looked away, understanding just how far the distance was now between them. But he couldn't stop just yet. He slowly moved towards the green-eyed man, emboldened when the other didn't lash out. When he was within arm's reach of Antonio, he reached out and placed his hand on the curve of the other's tanned cheek.

Antonio merely looked on, outwardly unaffected. Inside, however, a tempest of emotions churned and clawed at his ribs and he wondered if perhaps he should just push the other away now. But it was a surge of the affection he fought so hard to end that kept him still.

"It might not mean anything to you now." Roderich said quietly. "But know that I am sorry. And that I loved you once." He cocked his head, studying the other's face with a rueful smile. "Looking at you now, I think I never stopped."

Pressing his lips to Antonio's lips, Roderich pulled away, violet eyes unreadable and his indifferent mask back in place. Without another word, the country stepped away and began to walk away, shoulders stiff and head held high, despite his torn attire and the various bruises and cuts marring his body.

Antonio watched him disappear, body trembling and face mournful. "Neither did I."

* * *

I got the following translations from a website. Sorry if they're not accurate.

_Cariño = _sweetheart

_ Mi Cielo = _my heaven/sky

_Mi Bello = _beautiful (for men, I guess)_  
_

_Mi Amor = _my love

liebling = darling

Oh wow. I'm sorry if it seemed that I rushed this story, but really I didn't want to make this all mentioned sex and certain events. And the history was getting a bit more complex than I could handle in the summer (epic fail, I know OTL). All the stores I've read seem to support that the marriage was just for convenience and Austria just ditched Spain when it was all over. The way I see it, is that it wasn't that happy of a marrige. It was good sex and some affection, but with Austria's forced distance and Antonio's need for assurance (during this time when he was weakening) it was not the best. They eventually did fall in love (that is my headcanon) but Austria knew it couldn't last. Spain knew as well, but hoped that Austria would attempt it. Austria, after being beaten down, finally admitted it to Spain, who was still hurt by the divorce and stuff. I knew this wasn't going to be a happy ending, but I like to think that the two share small smiles from time to time and Austria is the only one who Romano will not try to kill if he sees him getting cozy with Spain.

But I love this pairing and I just might write more of them in the future~

Thank you to everyone following this story. You guys rock~ I hope the ending wasn't too awful. ^^;


End file.
